


Decode

by xHookedonKillianx



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Did I mention angst, F/M, Light abuse, Mentions of Sexual Assault, and will be noted before the chapter, anything triggering are mentions of past, brief showings of Millian (Milah & Killian), mentions abuse, nothing descriptive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28796622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHookedonKillianx/pseuds/xHookedonKillianx
Summary: “Killian killed Milah,” Emma quips out, her entire body reacting to saying his name for the first time in two months. Along with it, comes flashes in her mind. Flashes of his smile, his laughter, of times they spent together while Milah worked, of that last weekend… “The man I knew doesn’t exist.”
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	Decode

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Here I am again working on another multi chapter. I wonder when I'll learn. This is based off of one of my all time favorite books, and I hope you come along this journey with me!
> 
> !!!!!! TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER !!!!!!!
> 
> Underage assault attempted, abuse implied. Skip the flash back if you feel the need :)

**2001**

It’s hot out, so hot that Emma Swan feels like she’s in a permanent state of being sticky and wet. The window is open, and she’s sitting as close as possible to it, but there’s no breeze so it’s not helping. She looks up at the still fan on the ceiling and frowns. Ingrid, her house mother, went off her meds again and forgot to pay the electric bill, so Emma could only stare at the fan and _wish_ that it would work. 

Normally, she’d go to the local swimming pool with some of the neighborhood kids, but ever since she punched Tommy Cricket in the stomach last weekend, things have been a little awkward. Which, to be honest, is fine with her because she doesn’t need them anyway. 

Milah is the only friend she needs.

Sure, she’s sixteen and Emma is only ten, but they are best friends and she’s the first foster sibling Emma’s met that makes her feel like she has someone in the world. Milah is always looking out for her and teaching her new things, and when Ingrid goes off her meds, Milah always makes sure Emma gets something to eat and gets the things she needs for school.

She’s great… and maybe when she gets home from work, she’ll take Emma to the pool, so Emma doesn’t die of heat. Which is what she is currently trying not to do as she lies on her bed, covered in sweat and feeling tired.

The creaking of her door makes Emma lift her head to find Randy, Ingrid’s boyfriend, standing in her doorway staring at her. His brow is covered in sweat and the front of his t-shirt is almost completely soaked. His eyes are glassy, and his lips are curled in a way that makes Emma’s stomach uneasy.

“Randy?” she asks as she sits up. “Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer her. He just stands there for a minute, staring at her, before he steps into the room and closes the door behind him. 

She asks why he closed the door, it’s too hot, but he again doesn’t answer. Instead, he comes to sit next to her on the bed and she gets nervous.

“Is Ingrid still sleeping?”

“Mhhm.” His eyes move over her and before she can open her mouth, he starts again, “You know I’m just noticing what a pretty little woman you’re turning into.”

Emma swallows as he moves closer. She doesn’t know why she’s uncomfortable, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at her that makes her want to run.

“I, uh…”

“So pretty.”

She tries to move over but he only scoots closer.

“Randy, what—”

“I’m so glad you moved here,” he whispers, his thigh brushing against hers as he moves into her personal space.

“Randy…”

“Shh.”

He pushes in fast, forcing her to move back, but she hits the wall and she’s stuck just as he—

“Get the _hell_ away from her!”

With Randy practically on top of her, Emma’s gaze snaps toward the door to see Milah rushing forward with her eyes wide and her face hard. Her teeth are bared and before Emma knows what’s happening, Milah is yanking Randy off of her by his hair and shoving him to the ground. 

“You will _not_ do this to her, too, you fucking pervert!”

They begin to yell and Emma scurries into the corner of her bed as she watches in fear. Randy grabs Milah’s arm, screaming in her face and it’s just as she sees him raise his hand that Milah yells for her to go to her hiding place.

Emma pushes herself off the bed and runs out into the hall. It takes her no time at all to get to Milah’s room and once she does, she rushes to the closet, slamming the door shut just as she hears Milah cry out.

**XXX**

“Emma… Emma, wake up.”

With heavy eyelids, Emma blinks awake to find Milah standing outside of the closet, lightly shaking her awake.

“Milah!” Emma gasps as she sits up. “What happened?”

Milah’s smile is small, but it’s there and she shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about it. Come on, I packed your bag, we’re finally leaving.”

Milah stands and turns back toward the room while Emma shoots up in surprise. Milah had always talked about leaving, she said she was saving up money and promised that she would take Emma with her. It was a dream they would talk about when things got particularly bad, but Emma always thought it was just them talking… or that she wouldn’t really take her. 

Emma crawls out of the closet and watches as Milah drags a chair to the corner of her room. 

“What do you mean?”

Milah stands up onto the chair and pops the vent cover from the wall.

“I mean we’re not staying here another night.” She pulls a plastic bag out of the vent before putting the cover back on and stepping down. “I have enough money to get us out of here, and we’ll stay at a hotel and figure it out later. But we’re leaving tonight.”

Now in the light, Emma can see Milah clearly and what she sees makes her eyes go wide. Her dark hair is frizzy and knotted, her eyes are red like she’s been crying, her left cheek is pink and swollen, and there’s a cut on her lip.

“Milah, your face! What did Randy do?”

Milah keeps her head down, counting her money before she pushes up the strap of her ripped tank top. 

“Something he’ll never get to do again.” She mumbles then looks up at Emma with another smile. “Come on, duckling, grab your bag. We have to leave before anyone wakes up.”

Emma stands and walks over to Milah’s bed where the bags are. She doesn’t own much, but she trusts that Milah has gotten it all, though she still feels hesitation.

“What about Ingrid?”

Milah shakes her head as she walks up to her. “We can’t worry about her. We have to take care of ourselves.” Emma nods slowly and Milah places her hands on her shoulders. “Today we start a new adventure.”

**XXX**

**2019**

“We’re here, ma’am.”

The driver’s voice makes Emma open her eyes and she blinks a couple times to wake herself up fully, not realizing she dozed off on the way back from the airport. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, before picking up her bag and digging through it for her cash. “Keep the change.”

Emma Swan stares up at her apartment with her heart thundering in her chest. She knows she has to go inside; she knows she can’t continue to stand outside on the sidewalk, or escape to Florida for another two months, but it’s still hard to move. 

She hasn’t been back since _that_ weekend, since he—shaking her head, Emma picks up her duffel bag and tightens her grip on her rolling suitcase. Marco, the doorman, greets her with a warm smile, but the now-familiar knot in her stomach makes her anxiety peak at the sight of him. Worry that he’ll ask her questions she’s not ready to answer weighs heavy on her shoulders, and when she approaches the door, she readies herself. The look of horror mixed with sorrow flashes across his face the same way it flashes across everyone’s face that she’s encountered since Milah died and she bites the inside of her cheek. 

“Miss Swan, it’s so nice to see you.” 

Emma forces what she hopes is a smile before ducking her head and rushing inside when she sees him open his mouth to say more. She can’t handle making pleasantries, it’s too much and she just—

_“This just in, the trial of the century will begin September 8_ _ th _ _—”_

The voice coming from the news alert on the TV at the guard’s front desk makes Emma nearly trip over herself.

_“—the state versus multimillionaire contractor, Killian Jones, for the murder of his girlfriend, TV actress Milah Winters. Mr. Jones has hired top defense attorney, George Spencer, but with Milah’s sister, Emma Swan, as the state’s star witness, we doubt very much Spencer can work his usual magic.”_

Against her better judgement, Emma’s head snaps over to the TV just in time to see a video of Killian exiting the court after he made bail with his older brother, Liam, next to him trying to block away the press. After, there are flashes of pictures that appear on the screen—pictures of him at ribbon cutting ceremonies, pictures of him from Time magazine, then pictures of him and Milah together, the last being a picture of the three of them coming out of the restaurant the night Milah was killed. The news cast starts to zoom in on the way Killian is holding Milah’s arm, one of the anchors spitting on about how it shows his control over her, but what they aren’t showing is what happened a second before that… when Milah was so drunk she almost tripped over her own feet and Killian had to grab her so that she wouldn’t fall face first onto the ground. 

_“Bloody hell, Milah,” Killian growled as the limo door slammed behind him. “You knew the paps were there.”_

_“I don’t care!” Milah giggled as she kicked off her heels, one of them knocking Emma in the shin. “They can all kiss my ass!”_

“Miss Swan?” Emma blinks away from the TV to see one of the guards looking at her, embarrassment flashing across his face as the other guard switches the TV to another channel. “Is there something we can help you with?”

The smile she tries to force doesn’t appear and instead, she simply grits her teeth and walks toward the elevator. Their attempt at whispering goes horribly wrong as their words echo off the marble floors and walls and it only makes her press the button for the elevator harder. 

It takes Emma a lot longer than she cares to admit to open the door to her apartment, and when she finally does, she’s hit with a stale smell and dry heat. She probably should have asked someone to stop by to check on things in the last two months, but that would require her thinking about her apartment and that was something she was trying _not_ to do while she was away. Because if Emma thought about her apartment, she would think about what happened the last time she was there and that was something she just _couldn’t_ do. 

Closing the door, she lets her bag drop to the ground and walks to the windows to let some fresh air in. Her plants are all dead and she winces at the brown leaves that crumble to dust at the slightest touch. Maybe she’ll clean up a little instead of just going to sleep. Anything to keep her distracted from what she’s going to have to do later.

Wiping her hands on the back of her pants, Emma moves to grab the glasses off her coffee table—ignoring the fact that there’s two—and walks forward to put them in her sink only to stop in her tracks when she sees what’s laying across the back of her chair. The glasses slip from her fingers and by the time they crash and break on the ground, warm tears are stinging her eyes. 

She had no idea that the suit jacket had been left, she didn’t see it when she was packing to leave—then again she barely remembers packing—and the day before that is a blur. What the hell was she going to do with it?? She couldn’t keep it… but she didn’t know if she could touch it either. Her stomach starts to turn, she’s going to have to get rid of it because if she asks anyone else to do it, they’ll wonder why it’s there in the first place and that’s something she’s never going to admit to anyone.

And apparently neither is he.

The shrill sound of her cell phone ringing makes her jump and Emma gives a sigh of relief as her heart begins to slow while she picks up her phone without looking at who is calling.

“Hello?”

_“Emma! Oh I’m so glad I got you! How are you?”_

It’s Mary Margaret, the stepdaughter of Regina Mills. The same Regina that gave Milah her first job in a commercial with _her_ stepfather Robert Gold, a comedian from the seventies who was famous for his impressions. It was where Milah got her first big break and where she and Emma found their family. Regina became like a mother to both her and Milah, and Mary Margaret became like a sister. Emma didn’t feel up to talking to her today. Still, Mary Margaret was one of the few people Emma could never say no to.

Trying to sound cheerful, she breathes out her greeting, “Hi, Mar. I’m fine, a little tired, maybe. I just got home, and I have to un—”

_“Don’t unpack!”_ Mary Margaret cuts her off. _“You’re coming to the bed and breakfast tomorrow morning. David’s going to come pick you up, it’s all taken care of.”_

“Mar, I can’t.”

_“I insist!”_ Her friend all but squeals on the other end of the phone. _“I haven’t seen you in months and with everything coming up, you need rest. So, come stay here… with family.”_

Emma bites her lip to keep it from quivering. That’s what Milah used to say whenever she would want to get away, that it was best to go rest with family. She can picture Mary Marget on the end, her shoulder length raven-black hair in small waves and her bright green eyes wide as she paces back and forth in her office waiting for Emma to answer. 

She wants to protest, but she knows it’s worthless. Mary Margaret always gets what she wants and truthfully, Emma would love to see her and David again. It’s been too long, since before the funeral, and, well, she’s missed them. 

“Okay, tell David I’ll be ready for him.”

**XXX**

Emma’s sitting outside of the prosecutor’s office staring straight ahead. Normally, like anyone in the year 2019, she’d thumb through her phone to keep herself occupied, but her thumb is a traitor that likes to go to pictures she hasn’t had the courage to delete yet. So, she stares straight ahead, thinking of nothing and everything at the same time.

She thinks about the last time she saw Milah, the alcohol almost coming out of her pores, and yet she still looked as beautiful as ever. That was the thing about Milah, she was always beautiful, even when she was falling over drunk… even when she was lying dead on the concrete ground next to the pool.

“Ah, Ms. Swan!” Emma’s head snaps to the right to see the district attorney, Sydney Glass, walking toward her with a large smile on his face. She stands and takes his offered hand for a shake. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show.”

Keeping her tone bland, she answers, “I told you I’d be back today.”

Sydney nods in response and gestures for her to follow him into her office.

“I’m sure you’ve heard,” Sydney starts as he sits across from her at his desk. “The trial begins September 8th.”

“I have.”

He waits a moment, almost like he’s expecting her to say more and when she doesn’t, he forces a smile. 

“I’ll need to review your testimony with you so it’s fresh in your mind.”

“It’s never _not_ on my mind,” Emma clips, her nails digging into her palms.

“I understand, but I have to discuss the kind of questions the defense attorney will ask you. I suggest you come in on Monday for several hours, and then let’s plan to have long sessions next weekend. You will be around?”

She shakes her head. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Can’t we just do it tonight?”

Sydney seems to think about her proposal for a moment before he twists in his chair and pulls a large file out of a drawer only to drop it down on the desk. On the front it reads, _The People of New York vs Killian Jones_ and her heart begins to race. 

“I know how hard this is for you. You’re going to be forced to relive your sister’s death, and with that all the pain you experienced. And you’re going to testify against a man you liked and trusted.”

“Killian killed Milah,” Emma quips out, her entire body reacting to saying his name for the first time in two months. Along with it, comes flashes in her mind. Flashes of his smile, his laughter, of times they spent together while Milah worked, of that last weekend… “The man I knew doesn’t exist.” 

The DA looks like he wants to say something, but Emma raises her eyebrow at him in a challenge and he wisely keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he goes on about how important the case is and how horrible it is that Killian took Milah’s life away, which is why he needs to have _his_ life taken away and be put in prison. 

“You’re going to be asked a lot of mundane questions. How you and Milah met in foster care, how she took you with her when she left… I need you to be as precise as possible.”

Emma takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders.

“I understand.”

“Alright, let’s start with the day of the murder.” 

Sydney folds his hands on his desk and waits for her to begin. 

“I had been out of town for my art show, I flew in that morning to be there for the first taping of Milah’s new show.”

“And how did you find your sister?”

“Stressed. It was her first starring role in a TV series and she had been worried about it for a while. She kept forgetting her lines and tripping over her own feet. It wasn’t until I followed her to her dressing room in between takes that I saw her downing straight scotch. I took it from her and poured it down the sink.”

“How did she respond?”

She presses her lips together. “She was furious. She started screaming at me.”

“What happened after that?”

“Killian came in. He tried to help me calm her, but she just shouted at both of us to get out.”

“Was he surprised at her behavior?”

She shrugs. “Probably not. It wasn’t the first time she’s acted that way toward us.”

“How do you mean?”

Emma squirms in her seat. “I mean that sometimes she could get a little… rude when she was having one of her bad days.”

Sydney stands and walks around to the front of his desk to lean back against it.

“Are you saying that your sister frequently resorted to alcohol when she was stressed?”

“I’m saying that Milah had her own ways of dealing with things.”

“We’re going to have to reword that.” His brow furrows and he picks up a pen to write something down in the file before he turns back to Emma. “What happened after she kicked you out?”

“We went back to our seats. They continued to film, but by the end of it, Milah was almost falling over drunk, so they decided to end it for the day. After that, Milah insisted we all go out to dinner to celebrate.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Milah, Killian, and myself,” she mumbles. 

Sydney folds his arms across his chest. “Was that normal for you? To attend dinner with your sister and her boyfriend?”

She shrugs again. “I never looked at it any other way. Killian was my friend and they never made me feel like I was invading. Milah often insisted I come, or that Killian and I go alone when she was busy working.”

“What happened at the restaurant?”

Feeling her throat begin to dry, Emma leans forward to take a sip from the glass he offered when she first sat down and pauses to think of her words.

“There was a minor scene. Milah kept drinking and when we tried to cut her off, she accused us of trying to control her.”

“Were you?”

She lets out a frustrated breath and shakes her head. “We were trying to prevent the paparazzi from being called. Though it seems someone called them anyway.” She takes another sip of her water. “We tried to calm her down, but it only made her worse and when Killian tried to reason with her, she went off on him.”

Sydney tilts his head. “How do you mean?”

Flashes of Milah’s angry face flash in Emma’s mind and she bites her bottom lip.

“She screamed that she couldn’t understand why he was there. She said she had broken up with him a month ago, but he was still hanging around. She alluded to knowing why, but never said it and neither did Killian.”

“How did he respond?”

“He was furious,” she blows out with a small shake of her head. “But he tried not to let it show. He tried to make a joke out of it, but then she dumped her drink in his lap and we decided to call it a night. We got her into the car and went back to the estate. Killian helped me get her to her room and I stayed with her to help her get dressed.”

Sydney pushes himself up and walks back around his desk while he talks. 

“Okay, now we are at the most important part of the testimony, we’re leading up to Killian murdering your sister.” Emma turns her head at his words and her throat constricts. “I’m sorry, Miss Swan. But this is crucial.”

“I understand.”

“What happened after Mr. Jones left the room?”

“Milah asked if Killian left and I told her that he was just downstairs and she… she just rolled her eyes. I then asked her about what she said at the restaurant, about breaking up with him, if it was true.”

He leans forward with his pen ready and asks, “Miss Swan this is _very_ important. Did Milah tell you the break up was true?”

“Yes.” 

Emma stares down at her hands. She remembers how she brushed her hands through Milah’s hair.

_“Why didn’t you tell me you two broke up?”_

_Milah sat up and shook her head._

_“Were we ever really together? Our schedules have kept us apart for close to three months. Plus, he doesn’t love me, not anymore.”_

_Emma’s brow furrowed. “That’s not true.”_

_Milah smiled at her drunkenly. “Trust me, duckling, you’ll find out soon enough.”_

“She said she was tired, so I left her alone and went downstairs.”

“Was Killian still there?”

She takes a quick breath through her nose. “Yes.”

“And what was he doing?”

It’s like she’s thrusted back to that night, and the smell of fire fills her nostrils.

“He was pouring us drinks.” Sydney raises his brow and Emma continues, “We used to relax and talk whenever Milah would go to sleep early, it helped us be able to let off steam so we could act like nothing happened the next day.”

She remembers how they laughed, how he chased her around the coffee table after she threw a pillow at him… and how they almost—

“Miss Swan?” She blinks out of her thoughts to find the DA staring at her. “Are you—”

“I’m fine.” She clears her throat. “I’m fine, sorry.” She straightens in her chair. “It was around midnight that we heard a bang from upstairs and Killian offered to go up to check on her.”

“Why would he do that if they had broken up?”

She blinks while Killian’s voice rings through her ears.

_“Love, I’ll talk to her and you’ll see… I promise.”_

“I don’t know,” Emma lies. “He went upstairs and I don’t know how long it was but I fell asleep. I woke up to a door slamming.”

Sydney continues to write in his folder. 

“And what time was that?”

“Around three, I believe.”

“No,” he interrupts. “Don’t say you believe. Be certain or don’t say at all.”

Emma sighs. “It was just after three in the morning.”

“Good. What did you do then?”

“I went up to my bedroom, that’s when I heard Milah yelling.”

Sydney drops his pen and looks at her, his eyes serious and his jaw tight. 

“On the stand, before you can say whose voice you heard, I have to lay a foundation so that the judge is satisfied that you truly recognized that voice. So this is how we’ll do it...” He pauses dramatically. “Question: You heard a voice?”

“Yes.”

“How loud was the voice?”

“Shouting,” Emma answers, her voice quivering. 

“What was the tone of the voice?”

“Angry.”

“Have you ever heard that voice before?”

“Hundreds of times.”

Killian’s voice was filling her ears. Killian, laughing to Milah, _“Hey Star, hurry up, I’m hungry!”_ ; Killian deftly protecting her from an over zealous pap, _“Get in the car, Swan. Quick.”_ ; Killian coming to her art show last year: _“You are sensational.”_

Sydney’s voice once again brings her back to reality. 

“Miss Swan, did you _recognize_ the voice?”

“Absolutely.”

“ _Whose_ voice was it?”

“Killian… Killian Jones.”

“What did he shout?”

Unconsciously, she raises her own voice, “Close that door! I _told_ you to get back here right now!”

“Did your sister respond?”

“Yes,” Emma stirred restlessly. “Do we have to go through this?”

Sydney nods. “It will be easier for you if you get used to talking about it before the trial. Now, what did Milah say?”

“She was still sobbing… she said, ‘Get out of here, You’re _not_ a captain…’ and then I heard the door slam.”

“She slammed the door?”

Emma sniffles and shakes her head. “I don’t know which one of them slammed the door.”

“Miss Swan, does the word ‘captain’ mean anything to you?”

Milah’s face fills Emma’s mind; the brightness that had shone in Milah’s eyes when she came up with the nickname for Killian.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It was Killian’s nickname… she did that. The people close to her—she gave them special names.”

Sydney smiles. “Did she ever call anyone else by that name… the name Captain?”

“No… never” 

Abruptly, Emma gets up and walks to the window. It was grimy with dust and the breeze had only just a hint of a chill to it. It made her think longingly of Florida.

“Only a few minutes more, I promise. What happened after that?”

She keeps her gaze straight as she answers.

“Nothing. I went to sleep. I woke up the next morning in my room thinking that Killian and Milah made up. It wasn’t until I heard Johanna scream from outside that I found out the truth.”

The memory of Milah’s broken body lying on the ground next to the pool is all Emma can see. The blood from her head wound making her already dark hair look jet black and her white, satin nightgown crimson red. 

“When you saw her body,” Sydney starts softly, “you thought she must have _fallen_ from the balcony, correct? It was a rainy May night. Why would she have gone out there?”

Emma folds her arms across her torso and rubs her hands on her biceps.

“She loved to go out and look up at the sky, in any weather. I used to tell her to be careful… the railing wasn’t very high. I thought she must have leaned over, she had been drinking… she fell…”

She remembers how she and Killian grieved that Friday. Hands together, they both put on a brave face for the cameras, but when they were alone in the limo, they held each other as they wept. He helped her avoid the paparazzi and get back to her apartment at the end of the day. Then he left that Sunday night, and Monday morning her entire world changed; an eyewitness came forward saying she had seen Killian push Milah off the balcony at three thirty in the morning.

“Without your testimony, that witness could be destroyed by the defense,” she hears Sydney telling her. “As you know, she has a history of severe psychiatric problems and it’s not good that she waited so long before coming forward with her story.”

Emma turns back to Sydney. “Without my testimony it’s her word against Killian’s and he says he left the estate around twelve thirty.”

When she first heard about the eyewitness, she had been outraged. She couldn’t fathom why _anyone_ would say Killian would hurt Milah… until this man, Sydney Glass, told her that Killian denied being in the room with Milah after three in the morning. She’d _heard_ him, how could he deny that?

“You can swear that he was there.” Sydney stands and walks around the desk again to her. “That they were still fighting at three in the morning. Tamara Cassidy saw Milah pushed off the terrace at three thirty. Killian’s story of leaving the estate at twelve thirty, getting drunk at a bar, and waking up in his condo doesn’t add up. In addition to what you and that other woman testify, we also have a strong circumstantial case. The scratches on his arms and bloody lip, the testimony of the Lyft driver that he was trembling and muttering to himself about how it was all his fault… he can’t come forward with proof that he was at the bar after it closed.” At this point, Sydney is pacing back and forth and ticking off each reason on his fingers. “He has a motive—Milah rejected him.” He stops suddenly and turns back to her. “But one thing you have to realize is the defense will harp on the fact that you two were so close after her death. I need to know if there is anything that happened, so we’re not surprised.”

Emma stares at him blankly and the logical part of her brain knows that she’s in the district attorney's office, but the memory part of her brain has her back in her apartment with Killian at the front door.

_“Don’t go.”_

“Emma?” She blinks out of her thoughts to find Sydney’s eyes wide. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No,” she says, quietly. “There’s nothing. We were the two people who loved her best. Or at least, I thought we were.” She sighs and runs her hands through her hair. “Can I go now?”

Sydney appears to think on what she says before nodding and walking back to his seat.

“We’ll leave it at that. This is going to be a long trial, and it won’t be pleasant. Try to relax next week, wherever it is you’re going.”

“I’m going to Storybrooke, Maine. Mary Margaret Nolan has invited me to her bed and breakfast.”

He freezes mid sit. “I hope you’re joking.”

“Why would I joke about that?”

His eyes narrow and his face becomes flushed. He seems to be struggling not to raise his voice as he speaks, “Ms. Swan, I don’t think you appreciate the seriousness of your position. Without you, the other witness would be decimated by the defense. That means your testimony is about to put one of the richest and most successful men in this country in prison for, _at least_ , twenty years. Thirty if I can make murder two stick. Mary Margaret and her husband may be your friends, but they’re also friends with Killian Jones and are coming to New York to testify for him, and you’re going to _vacation_ with them?”

“I know what they’re doing,” Emma snips, her annoyance becoming too much to handle. “They don’t think he’s capable of murder and to be fair, if I hadn’t heard him with my own ears, I wouldn’t have believed it either. They’re following their conscience, and I’m following mine. We all do what we have to do, Mr. Glass.”

“There’s something fishy about this.” He shakes his head and sits down, pulling more papers out of his file. “You should see that for yourself. You claim the Nolan’s loved your sister but ask yourself why the hell they’re going to bat for her murderer. I insist you keep away from them.”

Emma picks up her bag and presses her lips together.

“Lucky for me, I don’t have to do what you say.”

She turns to walk out and it’s just as she opens his office door, that Sydney calls back to her, making her look at him over her shoulder.

“Never forget that without you as a witness, Killian Jones walks.”

**Author's Note:**

> there is no posting schedule for this. I'm hoping getting the first chapter out will get the juices flowing. thank you so much for your feedback!


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